Counting Stars
by Epsilon Scorpii
Summary: 'It ended the same way it began; two figures crouched by the murky waters of the Moat, gazing at the sky which seemed so deceptively free as they counted the stars.' An AU mini-fic set in Physik, exploring the what-if Simon had got to Septimus first on that night at Snake Slipway. Sequel to one-shot 'What Could Have Been', written purely out of nostalgia. :') R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_Counting Stars_

 _. . ._

 _'_ _It ended the same way it began; two figures crouched by the murky waters of the Moat, gazing at the sky which seemed so deceptively free as they counted the stars.' An AU mini-fic set in Physik, exploring the what-if Simon had got to Septimus first on that night at Snake Slipway. Sequel to one-shot 'What Could Have Been', written purely out of nostalgia. :') R &R!_

* * *

 **Chapter I: Snake Slipway**

The rough stone scraped against the sole of his shoes as he walked, his footsteps quick as they beat an irregular rhythm on the uneven ground. Every sharp corner and craggy edge sent his heart plunging into a new height of despair, and not for the first time that night, he mentally berated himself for embarking on this futile arduous journey.

At least the weather was proving fairly co-operative, he tried to reassure himself. The night was clean and cold, sky devoid of clouds and fog alike. Moonlight cut through the oppressing darkness, enabling him to see the front road ahead clearly. A good sign altogether.

It also meant that he was all too aware of the precipitous drop inches from where he placed his foot each stride though, so he tried to avoid thinking about it.

Cold, numb fingers clutching at the **Flyte** charm on his belt and harbouring much doubt, Septimus gritted his teeth and braved his way onwards. ' _I will never let myself be persuaded so easily again!'_ he fumed internally. What was he expecting to see, an ancient Alchemist wandering on the treacherous paths in the witching hour of midnight?! He was probably too easily beguiled. With an equal measure of stupidity and childish fascination too, he scolded himself. He took another step forwards and sent a small rock skittering off the edge of the precipice. Septimus thought he could imagine the small splosh it made a full ten seconds later. Something in his heart withered and died.

"Brilliant, just _brilliant,"_ he muttered, more miserable than anything.

There was a clatter that rang round the bend, causing his head to snap up in paranoia a dose of fear. Was it a **Thing**? He'd heard stories of **Darke** creatures roaming the Outside Path at night… hadn't Silas warned him before with stories of Parrick the Panicky, who had never been quite the same after his night adventure at the Outside Path? Or had it been Parrick the Paranoid? – He couldn't quite remember –

Suddenly a hooded shadow flitted across his vision before melting smoothly into the shadows round the corner. Septimus stopped dead in his tracks, every sense on hyper-alert. His heart thudded loudly against his ribcage.

"Who's there?" he called out.

If he had been hoping to embolden himself by breaking the silence, he was solely disappointed – the tremor in his voice only betrayed his lie to himself.

There was no response, to which escalated the growing ominousness. Septimus swallowed, wondering how long it would take for him to work up the nerve to go on. There was no alternative route; either he went straight ahead – to that shady bend where he was _certain_ a saw a shadowy figure – or he could return to the Wizard Tower and be forced to admit the entire journey had been forfeit and scary to boot.

The thought of the latter gave him strength, and he shuffled forwards almost at snail's space to negotiate the sharp bend, all the while muttering **Anti-Darke** spells to himself.

" **Preserve, preserve,** preserve…" he muttered like a mantra, too paranoid to consider how much of a nutter he was acting at the moment.

And it was then when he saw something – a flickering light caught at the edge of his vision. There – over by the precipice! He paused his steps for the second time that night, fear temporarily forgotten. He leaned out a little to behold the strange sight.

There was a fire burning underwater. There was no other way to describe it – amber flames dancing and licking at murky green waters far below.

But it made no sense – how could fire burn in its opposite element? And most importantly – _who_ was conjuring the fire? Determinedly Septimus edged even closer, straining his eyes in the gloom. And that was when he saw it – a hunched up figure _walking in the bottom of the Moat._

Septimus started, the small action causing more debris from the crumbling edge to fall sand-like into the waters. Had Queen Etheldredda spoken the truth after all? Was _this_ Marcellus Pye? Alther had said no one ever saw the Alchemist's ghost, which led to speculations that the Last Alchemist was still alive. But was that strange silhouette walking underneath the water human at all?

He leaned out a bit farther to see, entranced by this mystery. And in the single moment he let down his **SafeShield** , Queen Etheldredda's ghost crept closer, manic smile alight upon her ethereal features.

The last thing Septimus felt was an ice-cold grip plunging into his shoulder, a vicious shove sending him tumbling off the edge. For a moment he hung suspended in air, and before he could struggle to maintain his balance, to reach for the **Flyte** charm even – he was falling, gravity snatching him cleanly off the path. This time there was no familiar buzzing of **Magyk** , no **Flyte** charm to kick in before he met water – nothing to save him from toppling to his death far below.

A yell tore through his throat before frigid darkness wrapped around him and pulled him under.

His last thought before the beam of light above him disappeared completely was anything but encouraging. No one had seen him fall, and no one would be rescuing him either.

…

-X-

Septimus was considered a good swimmer, even if he wasn't particularly strong. He'd managed to learn it in his years of training in the Young Army, and it was one of the few things that had managed to keep him alive throughout the course.

But it seemed that this time his skills would not be of much use. The tide had turned and an icy current was running in from the river, swift and strong. Within seconds Septimus was dragged from the corner of the Slipway to the centre of the Moat.

For precious seconds he managed to surface before a strong undertow beneath his feet lunged at him greedily. He struggled violently as cold slimy weeds wrapped themselves around his ankles, crawling upwards to engulf his torso. His other hand which wasn't pinned helpless to his side scrabbled frantically for the **Flyte** charm – but either the cold had numbed his brain, or he'd lost it in his fall because he couldn't reach it.

The pressure in his chest had mounted into suffocating agony, and he inevitably opened his mouth, precious bubbles escaping his lips as he did so.

He was going to die. No one would know, save Etheldredda… perhaps Alther could guess as well… they might find his body washed off to the side, joining the skeletons of the unfortunate souls –

A strong arm wrapped around his upper body and began to tug him upwards. It could be just his imagination though. He wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore. Everything was a hazy gloom. But the weeds were reluctant to let their prey escape so easily; they entwined themselves around him, wrapping him in a solid cocoon. The force didn't relinquish its grip either…

The world never lost its colour; it was the same terrifying, inundating pitch black _dark._ The last thing he remembered was seeing a silver of light, a glimmer growing larger and larger in the distance – a strong hold pulling him upwards, upwards – and then nothingness.

…

* * *

...

-X-

The return of his senses brought with it pain.

A sheer pressure built up in his lungs, the crushing strain expanding to seize his throat. In reflex he jerked upwards, and in the next moment he was hacking, coughing violently. Somewhere deep in his mind he registered he'd just coughed up slimy bits of _weed_ which was disgusting, but he was too drained to think of anything else in the moment.

As the pressure eased into a dull throb, Septimus vaguely noticed a hand thumping his back. His eyes were wet from the violent coughing as he opened his eyes to take in the scene around him.

The first thing that entered his field of vision was a shadowy figure in black sitting across him. It wasn't the most reassuring sight.

Septimus would have scooted backwards if he'd had the energy to do so. Instead, he simply stared at the other, the only indication of his shock was a slight hitch in his breath. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his vision in the dim light.

"Who're you?" he as good as slurred in a hoarse, grating voice. It sounded nothing like his own.

The figure didn't reply.

"Did you push me in?" he demanded, but the slight raise in volume jostled his lungs, and he was reduced to another – thankfully, shorter – round of coughing.

"Yes, because it was awfully amusing to see you screaming your head off and rescuing you later," the figure replied sarcastically.

Septimus started slightly at the familiar voice. " _Simon?"_ he croaked. He didn't think he would see his elder brother again, not for a very long time. The sight of his elder brother eased the tension a little, if only slightly. If it hadn't been for his dragon crash-landing on Simon's hut at the Port some weeks ago, perhaps he wouldn't be feeling the same way.

"What in the name of Hotep-Ra were you _doing?"_ the other demanded instead, ignoring his question completely.

Septimus' head swam. Visions of half-substantial ghosts and the bobbing lantern under the moat flitted across his mind in blurred images. "A ghost Queen," he finally managed, keeping his voice low just in case it induced another coughing fit. "She wanted me to meet Marcellus Pye there. At midnight."

Dark green eyes darted to meet his. "And you just _agreed?"_ Simon said incredulously.

"Yeah – well – it seemed a good idea at that time," Septimus said feebly. "Hang on – what are _you_ doing here?"

His eldest brother continued to ignore his question. "I saw that ghost Queen," he said, his gaze as if searching Septimus. "She was there when you were drowning."

Septimus looked surprised. "On Snake Slipway?" he asked. "She saw me?"

"She offered to **Reclaime** you," Simon replied, looking disturbed for a moment.

"And?"

"I wouldn't let her."

For a moment confusion and disbelief rose like a cloud over his emotions, and his brain worked rapidly to provide an answer to this reply. Then it dawned on him. "So she couldn't **Reverse** the effects," he said slowly, the pieces clicking into place. "If she so chose to."

A brief smile flitted across Simon's face as he raised an eyebrow. "Not as stupid as you look," he complemented. Septimus scowled.

He opened his mouth to say more, but Simon silenced him with a look. His eyes darted to the door, and a sudden rigidness in his figure caused Septimus' hackles to rise. Seeing as Simon wouldn't be replying the obvious question, Septimus closed his eyes, called forth his magic and **Listened**. He heard it almost immediately, the sound of a dozen pair of footsteps heading their way. He opened his eyes again and instantly wished he hadn't; the little effort of **Magyk** had cost him.

"I think," Simon said, getting up decisively, "we have a problem."

"What now?" Septimus mumbled, tired.

"A squad of wizards are heading this way. I believe they may be from the Wizard Tower."

"From Wizard Tower?" Septimus repeated. Why were they here? Had Marcia sent out a squad of wizards to search for him? What time was it? Had his disappearance been noticed?

Etheldredda, he realized abruptly. The ghost Queen must have known everything that happened. He remembered the icy coldness as something plunged into his shoulder… had she been the one to shove him over?

Ignoring the fact that she was only a ghost, it made sense in a horrible sort of way. If she had planned right from the start to lure him to Snake Slipway, she would attempt to drown him… and then she would pull him out of the Moat at the last moment, giving her a hold over his life. She could **Reverse** the **Reclaime** if he refused her demands. It would be just the sort of thing that she would do.

But Simon had intercepted that plan… Simon had saved him instead – and she was bound to look for revenge. If she knew just who Simon was, she wouldn't even need to lift a finger – all she had to do was inform Marcia… maybe Jenna would be used to convince the Extra-Ordinary Wizard.

But what did she want from him? What made her so desperate that she needed to threaten his life in order to gain what she needed? What was it only he could perform?

Then a sudden thought struck Septimus. "Simon, are we in the Castle?"

The eldest brother avoided his eyes altogether. "Somewhere in the outskirts," Simon replied tersely.

"But you've been _banished!"_ Septimus hissed, suddenly uncertain. The sound of approaching footsteps were getting louder now, they didn't need **Magyk** to hear it.

"Trust me, _I know!"_ the other snapped back.

"You shouldn't be here – what if they find you? You need to **Transport** away – " Septimus began at the same time a pure silver light flashed across the window, too thin for fog, too bright to be mist. It was a **Confine**. He felt it even before Simon raised an eyebrow. _You were saying?_

Septimus' voice stuttered into silence. No way out. How was he going to explain everything that had happened tonight? What would happen to Simon? And why was his eldest brother at Snake Slipway in the middle of the night in the first place? Everything was happening way too fast. And he was in no state at all to be analyzing these kind of situations.

Even so Septimus had no choice but to keep his jumbled rush of thoughts to himself. He could feel the searing pressure expanding from his lungs to the back of his throat; it was all he could do to restrain himself from another bout of violent coughing - which sensation was simply agony to his windpipes. And all the while the footsteps approached closer and closer until they could hear it even without using **Magyk**. Septimus chanced a look at his eldest brother, but Simon simply leaned against the wall, his fingers tapping a distracted rhythm against wood.

"You seem very nonchalant about this," Septimus said, more to alleviate the tension that seemed to be suffocating the room.

Simon simply shrugged in reply, but his figure was tense. "I've got nothing to lose."

As if on cue, the footsteps drew to a halt outside; there was only a wall separating them. "He's here!" a voice cried outside of the door.

Septimus' heart gave an unpleasant flip. Who were they referring to? Him or Simon?

There was a hiss of orders, a familiar voice murmuring outside the door, followed by an awful silence. Then a deep, stern voice that sounded neither familiar nor reassuring spoke.

"Simon Caph Heap," it began in a slow intimidating tone, "you are under arrest for kidnapping the Extraordinary's Apprentice, and trespassing premises in which you have been banished eternally." On the other side of the door, Simon shifted his weight to another leg. "You are asked to step outside quietly. We have barred any route of escape. You are vastly outnumbered. Your resistance will only force our hand."

Septimus felt a pit of dread accompanied by incredulousness rising up to pinch at his heart. _Kidnap?_

"Oh snap, there goes my second kidnap attempt" Simon muttered, his tone dripping with derision. Despite himself Septimus felt something in him bristle at Simon's unfazed tone.

"Don't joke about that," Septimus hissed, perhaps a little more venomously then intended. His throat tightened, whether from the heightening tension or from the water clogging up his airways he didn't know.

For a moment their eyes met, the other's expression indecipherable; then someone hammered on the door loudly, and Simon looked away and pushed himself off the wall. He wrenched open the doorknob in a fluid motion, and a sharp sting of cool wind whistled through, blowing off Simon's hood in the process. Despite his initial caution however Simon didn't seem remarkably fazed.

Marcia was standing at the doorway, her sharp green eyes narrowed, her lips pulled into a stern line. Behind her a small army of wizards were gathered, and when Septimus looked at them, he found only hardened, unfamiliar faces. His heart sank. These weren't a random squad of Ordinary Wizards from the Wizard Tower; these were from the Defense unit, in which Marcia had handpicked. They were trained under Ralph Anvards, a talented older wizard whose family had been practicing **Magyk** for many generations. The Anvards were mostly a reclusive family and kept to themselves to avoid the politics between the Extra-Ordinary, royals and the Custodian Guards, but Marcia had finally persuaded the man to train the defense unit wizards from the Wizard Tower last fall.

Simon was first to break the silence. "Wow, only twenty," he commented with a smirk, his gaze roaming the entire squad of wizards circling him. "I'm hurt."

Septimus rolled his eyes. It was just typical of Simon to make things even more difficult than it already was. He moved to get up, but the effort made his head reel in dizziness. "Marcia," he began, his voice raspy.

No one seemed to hear him. The man, Anvards, gestured to his men. "Take him away."

"No, wait!" Septimus shouted, or at least he tried to – before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Simon on the other hand seemed oddly calm about the entire situation, as if he'd been expecting it. He raised an eyebrow in Anvards' direction, and his smile turned if possible, a shade colder than before.

"Harbouring cast-offs now, Marcia?" he asked lightly, before shrugging. "At least even _he_ is more talented than the Ordinary Wizards you train in that tower."

Two wizards advanced and grabbed him roughly by his arms to steer him away. Three more wizards, including Marcia, brushed past Simon – presumably to deal with him later – and entered the door to find Septimus recovering from his position on the floor.

"Septimus!" Marcia began in a thunderstruck tone, flying to his side. Her face was pale and worried. "Are you alright?" Briefly he noted he must have looked pretty bad in shape for her to gasp like that. In his defense, he'd just recovered from nearly drowning.

"Marcia," Septimus said again. He prayed that his voice wouldn't betray him at this crucial moment. "Simon hasn't kidnapped me. He saved my life. I went to Snake Slipway on my own, he didn't have anything to do with it!" His voice grew more constricted and hoarse as he progressed, he wasn't sure if he'd heard her properly. But he swallowed the strong urge to cough and looked into Marcia's wide green eyes, willing her to understand.

Finally her eyes hardened. "He nearly drowned you."

"No!" Septimus said desperately. "It wasn't him – it's _her – "_ He broke off into another coughing fit.

Marcia rubbed his back as he coughed, before helping him to stand. "We'll talk about this when we get back," Marcia promised. "I swear Simon will get a fair trial."

 _He didn't do anything!_ Septimus' mind screamed, but his voice wouldn't obey. Marcia led him back to the doorway, where Simon's hands were held fast by an invisible chain. His eyes were hard, and he ignored Septimus' attempts to catch his eye altogether.

"Take down the **Confine** ," Marcia commanded. "Rynelf, with me. Anvards, take the men and search the place. I will see if she speaks the truth."

Truth? What truth? Alarmed, Septimus twisted around slightly to look at Simon, and for the first time he could see honest confusion in his eyes.

Why search the place?

But there was no time for questions; there wasn't even time for Septimus to offer his own explanations. The silvery barrier around them was removed, and in the next moment, Marcia's purple cloak was around him. A familiar swirl of purple haze enveloped them, and Septimus felt himself **Transported** away to the Castle.

…

-X-

 _A/N: Truthfully this was written two whole years ago. I just finished Sand Rider and got terribly nostalgic for young Septimus' adventures, and of course Simon is forever still a favorite, so I wanted to share this to anyone who might be feeling the same way._

 _You see, in Sand Rider, when I came to the scene when Sep, Jenna and Beetle looked at each other and remembered their own adventures when they were younger – 'somehow everything only seemed possible when they were younger', and upon reminiscing those, that 'they weren't sure if they liked being adults' – I lost my resolve completely and wrote another fic for the SH fandom. D': Why did they have to grow up waaiiiiii *sobs*_

 _And so. With many misgivings and uncertainties… this is the result. I certainly hope you enjoyed it... hee._

 _…_

 _In response to questions regarding the Todhunter Moon series, (yes, I've read them all! :D) My views on_ _ **Sand Rider**_ _:_

 _I'm not sure if I'll ever like Tod and her 'Tribe of Three' as much as I loved Septimus, Jenna and Nicko the first time they went on the run together in Magyk, and when Sep and Nicko went to find Jenna when she got kidnapped in Flyte; even their adventures in Physik and Queste. The first four books were my absolute favorite. As for the villain in the Pathfinder series: honestly, at least DomDaniel had a horde of Custodian Guards working for him – and he was a scary Necromancer to boot. Oraton-Marr just seems like an idiotic wizard everyone fears for no apparent reason at all. Because getting so many people to stand around the Orm while it hatches and trusting everyone to 'turn your backs!' is such an ingenious move. Honestly._

 _And I have no idea why, but Silas' eye colour changed from piercing green to blue in Sand Rider. I thought anyone who had contact with Magyk had green eyes…?_

 _I do enjoy the slight references to the earlier series though: the part about Silas' tentative truce with Morwenna, the wizard sleds (though last I remember, Septimus was not in the least fond of them, let alone getting excited over a sledding race… and I do not recall such a tradition ever being mentioned even when he was Senior Apprentice, but anyways.) I treasured those little golden nuggets :3_

 _Oh, but I still got mighty irked when Septimus stormed into the Manuscriptorium to publicly confront Beetle on the basis of Jillie Djnn's few words. So much for his being portrayed as 'rational and diplomatic' so far. It just clashes completely with his constructed older character. Frankly speaking I don't quite understand why he acted the way he did. It's as if everything was just to add heat to the moment to spice up the story._

 _Inconsistencies and annoying moments aside, I do quite enjoy reading about the new world Sage constructed – the Desert of Singing Sands has a quite mystic magical feel to it. I might not be pleased about character development, but the pictures her words painted in my mind were quite vivid. :)_

 _And there ends my long-winded rant. I'm really curious about your thoughts, both about me starting a new fic and Sand Rider… you don't mind sharing riiight? :p :3_


	2. Chapter 2

_Counting Stars_

. . .

 _Chapter dedicated to the lovely Lady Lysithia, Rika, VividPhox, maripaz6, Monmaedchen, the ex-Kerowyn 6 who has bid us farewell and you know – anyone here who still cares about this story._

* * *

 **Chapter II: A Question of Trust**

"Sep, Sep are you alright?"

The moment he landed, slightly disorientated from the **Transport** , someone had thrown her arms around him. He staggered back slightly, his throat still tight from the fluid in his lungs.

"Jen - ," was all he managed, before he was tackled into a tight hug, and his vision was immediately obscured by familiar long dark hair. He fought the urge to cough _again_ and hugged her back.

"What happened, Sep?" she exclaimed, finally releasing him. "You look horrible! When _she_ told me what happened, I thought she wasn't really serious – but then Marcia confirmed you were missing and - " Jenna broke off.

The reason became quite clear; Simon was standing a few feet from where they were. Septimus saw Jenna's eyes widen, and she clutched at him tighter, huddling close. Simon was staring at them, an undecipherable expression on his face, his hands still bound by magical chains. When Jenna narrowed her eyes at him, he let his gaze slide to the floor and inclined his head slightly.

"Your majesty," he said. His tone was mocking, yet it wasn't. Septimus wasn't sure what to make of him. Everything about his eldest brother seemed confusing right now.

"What are you doing here?!" Jenna spat, and there was something more than anger in her eyes.

Septimus tugged at her hand, "Jen, he just saved my life – "

" _Saved your life?_ " Jenna repeated, incredulous. Her sharp tone had risen and it sent a sharp pain ringing through Septimus' skull, and he had to fight back a wince. "He nearly _drowned_ you!"

"It's not like that!" Septimus fumed, his voice almost matching Jenna's tone. He was tired of everyone assuming they knew what had happened, when _he_ was the one involved. No one even cared to listen to his testimony; it seemed like they didn't even need one at the sight of Simon Heap. Public enemy number one.

He looked back at the staircase. They were currently standing in the middle of the Hall of the Wizard Tower, and a few bleary-eyed Ordinary Wizards were arriving to witness the commotion. There were plenty of cries of " _The_ _ **Darke**_ _Wizard!"_ followed by slamming of doors. Simon, if any, seemed to find the situation slightly humorous, if the expression on his face was anything to go by.

Marcia was busy shoo-ing the unhelpful nosy wizards back upstairs, and Septimus could practically feel her annoyance growing.

"No, Ethel – there _is_ no imminent threat. He is here for questioning."

"Madam Marcia I beg to contradict! _He_ _is_ the threat!"

"Whatever he proves to be, I will be taking care of it," Marcia snapped, and she all but shoved the balding wizard up the stairs. "Now _thank you_ for your cooperation, please stay _out of the way_ until I inform the rest of the Tower otherwise. _Goodnight._ Up!" The last bit was addressed to the silver winding staircase, which began to transport the wizard Ethel back to his rooms much against his will. Marcia turned back to face them, her face lined and taut with tension and worry.

When she looked over and saw Septimus still standing, she gestured impatiently for the men to escort Simon upstairs. "Put him in the Holding Room," she said when one of them made to object. Most of them were keener on throwing the eldest Heap straight into the dungeons. They murmured a 'yes Madam Marcia' and left quickly, Simon still wedged between them. It was as if they were afraid that their 'Public Enemy No. 1' would somehow manage to escape while bound fast with **Magykal** chains.

"You aren't staying here," Marcia said sharply as she approached her Apprentice. "You need some proper rest. Are you in any sort of discomfort?"

"Throat feels tight," Septimus managed to say. "I think there's still some fluid in my lungs but it's getting better."

Marcia frowned, as if unsatisfied by his answer, then murmured something. A small purple cloud wound itself around his head and seemed to dissolve around him. Septimus blinked, light-headed. The pressure in his chest eased somewhat, and he felt like he could finally breathe properly again.

"Wow thanks," Septimus gasped, still feeling slightly woozy from the after effects of the spell. Now that was a useful **Charm** to have.

"Jenna please take him upstairs," she told Jenna. "Put him beside the fire. I'll come up as soon as I can."

"Wait, what about Simon?" Septimus asked, looking back to Marcia. "I swear he had nothing to do with me falling into the Moat."

Marcia pursed her lips for a while, before sighing warily. "Even if that proves true, it doesn't clear him of the rest of his suspected crimes," she said, her tone turning a shade softer than before. "Go and rest Septimus. Your parents will be here soon, and you still need to do your Prediction Practical tomorrow," the last bit sounded more familiar. Septimus bit his lip, frustrated, but he knew it was futile to argue with Marcia.

"You said you would hear me out," he said stubbornly, "Simon saved me, Marcia."

"Anvards and his men should be arriving anytime now," Marcia said. "Until then he will be held in the Holding Room until he is proved innocent or otherwise. You can stay the night if you wish to," she added to Jenna.

He didn't know why, but there was a hollow sort of fear taking form in his chest, and the thought of Etheldredda only made the feeling grow.

…

-X-

" _She_ said she saw Simon push you into the Moat," Jenna told him as Septimus flopped onto his bed beneath his warm blankets, cold and exhausted. Jenna still tried to avoid using Etheldredda's name whenever possible. "And she tried to save you but Simon wouldn't let her."

Septimus looked over. "If he _did_ try to drown me why would he save me later?" he countered, tired of the argument, but he thought at least he ought to clear Simon's name on this matter if not others.

"How can you be certain that he did, and he wasn't pretending?"

"How can _you_ be certain that Etheldredda was telling the truth?" Septimus persisted. He kept the dark thought that it might have been Etheldredda that pushed him into the Moat by himself. In a twisted way his theory _had_ made sense – but Etheldredda was ultimately still a ghost. An unpleasant and nosy one at that, but ghosts held no hold over the Living. "It's like Simon said - if she had saved me using a **Reclaime** , she could have bound me to her will Jen."

Jenna looked unconvinced. "How does that work?"

"It's very – " Septimus frowned. " –complicated. I think my brain isn't working properly. I remembered more about it a while ago."

" _She_ said that there's something in Simon's place too," Jenna continued, but this time she did sound a little doubtful. "She said Simon's causing the Sicknesse, and he's spreading the poison to the Castle inhabitants."

" _What?_ That's why they searched the place?" Septimus exclaimed, nearly bolting upright there and then. "No way!"

A sharp breeze whistled through the window almost immediately, blowing out the candle Jenna had left by the sill. The effect was instantaneous; the next moment the window had been **Caused** to slam open with a dramatic _bang,_ and the temperature in the room plunged by several degrees. Jenna jumped up, looking extremely annoyed at the unexpected intrusion.

"Seeing as you nearly drowned, I shall temporarily pardon your deluded senses," a high cold voice spoke. It sounded like the slow terrible scratching of fingernails against blackboards. Septimus fought the urge to roll his eyes. Etheldredda must have been listening in all the while; he hadn't bothered to put up any shield. If she was indeed the schemer like how he suspected her to be, once Septimus told Jenna his suspicions things were going to get ugly very quickly.

"I am afraid Sep needs to rest now," Jenna said sharply, still standing from her position beside Septimus' bed. Her adopted her best Queen-ly voice to brook minimal space for argument. "I thank you to leave us alone for now. Thank you and _goodnight."_

Briefly Septimus wondered if he'd heard Marcia in Jenna's tone, especially at the last bit. The ghost Queen frowned terribly at Jenna's blatant hostility.

"Such _impertinence_!" she exclaimed in a tone of distaste, eyeing Jenna as she would Sarah Heap's romance novels. The last word was emphasized with an empathetic hiss. "Such conduct towards royal ancestors is absolutely appalling. I suppose it's hardly a surprise, what with such a shameful upbringing…"

Jenna looked as if she were ready to punch the ghost-Queen there and then; sodding royal ancestor or not. However, Etheldredda, upon succeeding in riling up the Princess had moved on quickly to her next target, turning away from Jenna dismissively in favour of addressing Septimus.

"I understand that you are quick to defend your kin, Apprentice… but I fear they may have found some _incriminating_ evidence against Simon Heap," she said, her voice saccharine sweet. There was the faintest trace of glee in her mannerisms, as if she were sharing a piece of juicy gossip. Septimus instantly felt unnerved at the knowing look in her eyes as their gazes met. Etheldredda leaned in a little closer for effect, her voice dropping low, causing pricklets to race across Septimus' skin.

"They found it in his room alright. A vial of potion, containing the venom responsible for the awful Sicknesse."

Septimus' heart skipped a beat at her words. It couldn't be true. Simon had said he would try – he'd been trying to give up **Darke Magyk**. It was all Etheldredda's plan to frame Simon, it had to be.

Refusing to give Etheldredda the satisfaction of being affected by her words, Septimus forced himself to control his breathing as evenly as he could. He swallowed slightly, but when he spoke his voice remained steady and cold.

"The Sicknesse was clearly spread by some kind of creature," Septimus interjected coolly, with what he hoped was a dismissive air. "And while I haven't seen him around much, I'm sure we would have noticed if he'd developed fangs."

Jenna gave a helpful derisive snort at his tone. Etheldredda reared back, completely miffed at his unsatisfactory response.

"Children," she said disgustedly, her façade falling away just as soon as she had adapted it, much to the inward relief of the rest of the occupants in the room. At least her usual arrogance and unpleasantness wasn't as creepy as her pseudo-concern 'Royal Grandmama of the Castle' act. "Always so short-sighted, rude and unappreciative. I would have expected at least _some_ gratitude for the trouble I have been through tonight…"

She trailed off, with her meeting only the stony faces of both the Princess and the Apprentice. Her nostrils flared angrily, but besides that there wasn't much else she could do. She rose out of her perch beside Septimus' bed with as much dignity as she could muster, shooting both of them a heady glare all the while.

"You'll see that I am right all along, Princess," she said loftily as her parting remark. "Soon you'll be running to me with your questions and wanting my help."

Jenna promptly muttered a rather rude word which Septimus attributed to Nicko's bad influence, causing him to shoot Jenna a look. Jenna didn't look like she was about to take it back.

"If she calls herself _Grandmama_ one more time," she muttered in a rather threatening voice.

But Queen Etheldredda had already gone. The moment her ghost left through the open window, candle flame by the window sill burst back to vibrant life, springing into a flickering dance in the quiet wind. Beside him Septimus felt Jenna relax slightly. However, even if Septimus wanted to just roll over and give in to sleep, he couldn't. The ghost Queen might have left, but Etheldredda's words still clung to him, ringing loud in his ears. Doubt niggled uncomfortably in his heart. He didn't believe for one moment that his eldest brother was responsible for causing the Sicknesse; even if Simon was still hell-bent on practicing **Darke Magyk,** potions couldn't simply be conjured. They had to be brewed and cultivated with years of refined skills only taught in the obscure branch of **Physik** , which Septimus doubted could be picked up from months dwelling in a shady rubbish-strewn Port.

Which meant either it was Etheldredda's elaborate scheme to frame Simon, or it there was someone else in the picture altogether. But what was the motive? What would anyone have to gain from all this?

He ran his mind through multiple possibilities, but the fog of exhaustion which threatened to settle over his brain frustrated him. In an unconscious act of copying Silas, Septimus rubbed the bridge of his nose and propped himself higher against the headboard.

"How did Marcia know where to look for me and Simon?" Septimus asked at last.

Jenna frowned. "Etheldredda woke me up. Wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, mind you," she added darkly before continuing. "She said she saw Simon try to kidnap and drown you at the Moat. I think she followed him – and she came back and told Marcia where you both were."

Septimus looked back at her sharply. By her tone Septimus could tell she had no trouble believing what she'd been told, save that it had been Etheldredda who had been the one delivering the news.

"It's nothing like that Jen," Septimus said quietly, his voice serious. "I don't know who pushed me into the Moat but it was definitely not Simon. He was the one who pulled me out."

The curtain rustled suspiciously. He didn't know whether he was imagining things or not, but he could've sworn he saw the candle flicker. Septimus gritted his teeth in annoyance. Etheldredda could probably work better than any **Bother** could ever hope to amount to. "Anyway," he said in a louder voice, for the benefit of their as of yet unseen visitor, "That aside, I don't believe that Simon is causing the Sicknesse either; like I said he doesn't have red eyes or fangs, for starters."

"There still remains much suspicion though," a different voice spoke up suddenly. Jenna jumped and Septimus opened his mouth to say something very snarky (his encounter with Simon had already rubbed off him) before nearly wilting with relief at their second, infinitely more welcome visitor that night.

"Alther!" Septimus exclaimed.

"Are you alright, lad?" was the first thing the ghost of the former Extra-Ordinary said in greeting as he slowly faded into view. Septimus grimaced slightly as Alther looked down at his pale exhausted state and frowned, looking quite displeased at the moment.

"I see you actually followed her orders and went to Snake Slipway at midnight," Alther said grimly. It wasn't a question.

Septimus had the decency to blush.

"Er – yeah. Sorry," he muttered. He knew Alther held himself partially responsible for what had happened because he'd been the one who led Septimus to the Hole in the Tavern to meet Etheldredda in the first place. But still. How was he expected to simply roll over and fall asleep with all his bottled up curiousity?

Jenna sat up at this unexpected news. "Whose orders? You don't mean _her?"_

"She was the one who told me to go to Snake Slipway in the first place Jen," Septimus told her, seizing upon the opportunity. "That's why it's more likely that she has something to do with this rather than Simon."

"The Holding cell is in chaos," Alther informed them. "Anvards and his men found a few vials in Simon's place, and they have been tested positive for the venom that causes the Sicknesse. They say he might have been feeding it to the rats, so that the rats may cause the disease."

Jenna looked doubtful, but at the mention of Simon's name her face closed off abruptly, hardening.

"You can't believe that," Septimus objected. "Etheldredda knowing everything seems a bit too coincidental doesn't it?"

"I don't know Sep," Jenna said, leaning against the couch she'd drawn up beside his bed. "Why else would Simon be at Snake Slipway at midnight? Say it was pure coincidence that he was there to save you. He was probably living near there somewhere. And there's about only one reason why _he_ would want to return to the Castle."

Septimus felt a strange sort of desperation seize him. "He wouldn't – " he began again, trying to get Jenna to see from his point of view, but this time Jenna cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Oh he _wouldn't_ Sep?" Jenna said, her voice tight and angry. "I think we may have underestimated what Simon _would_ and _wouldn't_ do."

Septimus fell silent.

In a way, Jenna was right, though. Only a year ago Simon had kidnapped her to the Badlands under the falsehood of taking his 'little sister' for a ride… the shock of the betrayal probably hurt as much as his intention to murder.

 _That night when I kidnapped Jenna, I would have killed her._

The **Placement** that nearly killed Marcia. The Dragon Boat. Images of the skeleton, of Jenna's disappearance, of facing off his eldest brother in the courtyard filled his mind. He remembered the man scrabbling for air as Simon watched calmly, relishing his screams as he was slowly strangled to death.

But he remembered the fear too, when his brother had looked down at his hands in a mixture of horror and fascination. Even he if he didn't want to, for the life of him Septimus couldn't forget that.

…

 **A/N: Okay, to be honest I wrote this like years ago as well. 2015 if I'm not mistaken, so it's in no way a reflection of my current style. Or perhaps not much has changed. Anyway, thought this would be better appreciated posted rather than the alternative of rotting in my internal storage, so ta-dah!**


End file.
